


Family Sacrifices

by FleetSparrow



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Dubious Consent, M/M, dubcon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-04 19:44:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gotham's a dirty town filled with dirty people, especially those in power.  Seven years ago, Bruce Wayne watched as the Graysons nearly fell to their deaths.  Now, he's more obsessed with them than ever, particularly their son.  In Gotham, what a Wayne wants, he gets, and Bruce Wayne wants Dick Grayson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Continuing my foray into dark!fic land.

Every year, Haly’s Circus played three days in Gotham. They had originally played five, but after the near-death of the Flying Graysons some six years before, they limited their run to just one weekend. Nobody wanted to stay in Gotham any longer than they had to, but they couldn’t cut out too many nights. The city was starving for entertainment, for some sort of break from whatever terrible life it led every day, and they paid well for it. For the last three years, the circus had become a Gotham celebrity hotspot, where the glamor of the rich almost outshone the bright performances of the big top. For a fairly ridiculous fee, they now gave tours of the backstage of the circus, including the preparation tents, the cages, and even their housing. Too much time for a town nobody liked.

“Zitka’s the friendliest of the animals,” Dick droned, even his natural energy getting buried beneath yet another tour for twittering rich folks. “She loves children and trusts everyone who works in the circus. In one town, a young child got lost after a show and, in the dark, made her way back here. Zitka found her and kept her happy and calm until her parents came to find her. Zitka is the symbol of our circus family.”

The sixteen year-old leaned against the wall of the elephant handler’s trailer and watched the crowd as they murmured and took pictures and generally ignored him in favor of the elephant. He really had no reason to complain, he told himself, especially seeing as he always volunteered to lead the Gotham tours. It was his way of keeping tabs on the people who had almost killed him and his family when he was a kid. He hadn’t believed the crew who had said Gotham was a rotten city until that night; now, he believed it more than he believed almost anything else.

“And that concludes our Haly’s Circus tour. Please come back tonight for our show, starting promptly at 7:30. I’ll be flying for you!” He bowed to the polite, but meager applause of the group and took a deep breath, not standing straight again until he heard the adults steering the group back toward the exit. He closed his eyes and shook his head as he straightened up, jumping slightly when he opened his eyes to discover he was not alone. “They went that way.”

The man in front of him smiled some sort of fake smile that made Dick’s skin crawl. “I know.” There was something wrong with his eyes and that smile. It wasn’t even that the smile didn’t reach them. They had some other type of look in them, something that didn’t go with it. It made Dick’s stomach clench.

“The tour’s over. I don’t know what else you–”

“I was there that night,” the man said suddenly, his expression softening a little too late, like it was taking a conscious effort. “I’ve been coming every year since. I’m glad to see how well you’ve grown up.”

That was...weird. “Oh. Thanks. I guess.”

The man smiled again and held out his hand. “My name’s Bruce.”

Dick shook his hand politely, just like he’d been taught. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for coming to our circus.”

Bruce’s hand squeezed his, not too hard, but enough to not let him pull away. “I’ll be watching you perform tonight.” With a final squeeze, Bruce let Dick’s hand go and turned away to head for the exit.

It wasn’t until much later, until during their show, when Dick stared out at the darkness of the big top waiting for the spotlights to hit them so they could start, that he realized what the look in Bruce’s eyes was.

Hunger.


	2. The Family Talk

The circus was never quiet. Even after the shows were done and the audience had left, there was always some sort of noise: the animals getting their nightly feeding, the riggers checking all the equipment, the performers settling in for whatever their nightly rituals were. The constant sounds were comforting. Dick curled up on his spot on their little couch focusing intently on nothing, as if trying to commit every sound he heard to memory.

“Well, we’ve certainly had _worse_ shows in Gotham,” John said, dishing out the pot roast that had been stewing all day. “Nobody threw anything, at least.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “They were cheering so loud, I thought I was gonna go deaf.” She set out their water bottles, taking the plates from her husband when they were filled. “Dickie? Dinner time, honey.”

Dick curled in on himself instinctively, then unfolded slightly. “Do you ever, like, get a bad feeling?”

“You’re asking the circus spitfire,” John said, grinning cheekily at Mary. “She’s got nothing but bad feelings.”

“Oh, hush, you,” she said, smacking his arm lightly. She reached forward and rested her hand on Dick’s knee. “What kind do you mean, Dick?”

He shrugged. “Well, like... like about a person. Like, y’know how you just meet someone and you feel like....” He trailed off, unsure of how to describe his feeling.

“Like you instantly hate them?” Mary suggested.

“Like there’s something about them you don’t trust?” John asked.

“Like,” Dick began again, taking the bottle his mom handed him. “Like everything they say just makes your skin crawl. Like you just met them, but you feel like you’ll never be clean again.” He glanced up at them. “Does that make sense?”

John sat down next to him and squeezed his shoulder. “Who was it?”

Dick shrugged, but didn’t pull away from his dad. “I don’t know. Some guy named Bruce. He said he was there the night... Apparently, he’s been coming ever since.”

Mary scoffed, cracking open her water bottle with more force than needed. “Disaster junkie, like most of them. Probably hoping to see if it’ll happen again.”

“He said he was glad I’ve grown up so well,” Dick said, staring unseeingly at his plate. “He had a really weird look on his face when he said it.”

Mary sat down on the other side of Dick, exchanging a worried look with her husband. “What kind of look?”

Even between the comfort of his mother and father, Dick curled in at the memory of Bruce’s face. “Hungry.” He leaned in to his mom, whimpering slightly as his parents wrapped their arms around him. “I hate Gotham.”

“The people here are disgusting,” Mary said, rubbing the back of Dick’s neck soothingly. “They think they can get whatever they want because they’re rich.”

“They usually can,” John said, quietly.

Mary gave him a hard look. “Not us, they can’t.”

Dick turned his face to his mother’s shoulder. “I don’t want to see him again.”

“You won’t have to, baby,” Mary said.

“One more show, and then we’re out of here for a year,” John said, rubbing Dick’s back. “Why don’t we have someone else do tomorrow’s tour, OK? You should get some rest tomorrow. Won’t be able to perform well if you’re stressed because of someone in the audience.”

Dick nodded and reached back for his dad’s hand. “OK. Yeah, I–” He cut himself off suddenly, turning to face the closed window behind them. Among all the normal sounds of the circus at night, there was something that wasn’t right. He slipped off the couch, backing away until he hit the door of their little refrigerator. “Someone’s out there.”

Mary flung back the curtains, looking ready to break through the window to attack whoever was outside, but there was nothing there. She opened the window, looking through the screen for any footprints or signs that someone had been there.

John stood up, reaching for Dick. “Maybe we should just eat and deal with this tomorrow. I’ll tell Pop to have everyone on guard in case he comes back.” He squeezed Dick’s shoulder. “We won’t let him hurt you.”

Dick shuddered, finally tearing his gaze from the window, and hugged his dad. “I _hate_ Gotham.”


	3. The Proposition

Dick stayed in their trailer the next day, only leaving it for the warm ups and practice run during the day. Everyone in the circus was on the lookout for the Bruce Dick had described, ready to keep him away at all costs. Even if he was one of the rich, the safety of their kids was more important than the feelings of any of Gotham’s elite. That night, when it was time to perform, Dick only did his simplest tricks. Muscle memory could only do so much and he was still too tense from his meeting the day before to concentrate on any of his complex flips. It didn’t matter to the audience anyway; unless they had been going to the previous shows, no one would be the wiser. Immediately after the show, Dick had gone back to their trailer and curled up for the night.

On the last night of a run, the circus always gathered for a group dinner after taking down the tents and equipment. Dick usually enjoyed taking down the show; it kept him busy, active, and hungrier by dinner time. Today, however, he was confined inside and somehow, that was all right with him. In a few hours, they’d be out of Gotham once again and everything would go back to normal.

Dick was sprawled out on a chair when his dad returned for a shower before dinner. Mary had been reading to Dick to keep them both occupied before they realized it wasn’t really helping and she stretched out for a nap on the couch. It was always hot and stifling in Gotham by the time they came through, the kind of heat that made people anxious and angry, but too sluggish to do anything about it. It was the kind of heat that couldn’t be escaped, just like everything else about Gotham.

“They’ve started up the fire pit,” John said, as he exited the small bathroom. When he had finished toweling off his hair and still hadn’t got a response, he tried again. “Antonio’s ready to throw a feast with all the stuff he bought, you should see it.”

Dick finally looked up from the table, slowly trying to smile like he usually would. “I’ll bet it’s gonna be delish.” He couldn’t hold his father’s gaze and let his eyes look back down towards the floor.

John walked over and sat on the table, pulling Dick in for a hug. “Hey. You’re gonna be all right, Dick, I promise. I’m so sorry you had to deal with that alone.” He patted Dick’s head and chuckled. “Rhiannon said if he shows up tonight, she’ll have her knives with her.”

Dick couldn’t stop a small laugh from coming up. “Like to see the look on his face then.”

“He’d make a terrible target girl,” John said. He gave Dick a warm smile and rubbed his back. “You did good out there, Robin. I didn’t get a chance to tell you before you came back.”

Dick scoffed and squirmed at the compliment. “No, I didn’t. I barely made that triple and the rest, you might as well have had a ten year-old out there. It was terrible.”

“No,” John said. “You did well.” Although Dick was still hugging him, he was turning as far away from John’s face as he could, so John carefully turned Dick back to face him. “You were under a lot of stress and you were scared, but you got up there and flew anyway.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, the show must go on, right?”

John smiled and cupped Dick’s cheek. “And you made sure it did. I couldn’t be prouder of you, Dick.”

Dick smiled, and this time it wasn’t forced. No matter what, his dad always seemed to be able to get him closer to feeling normal again. He opened his mouth to say thanks, his smile growing, when someone knocked very loudly on the open main door of their trailer.

Dick’s smile disappeared instantly.

Although the solid main door was locked open against the side of the trailer, the screen door was still shut tight. Right now, that mesh was the only thing keeping Dick from whoever was outside, as if he couldn’t feel in his gut who it was. He looked up at his dad, eyes wide in terror, and shook his head.

The stranger knocked again and called out, “Hello?”

Behind them, Mary sat up, jolted awake by the noise. “John,” she whispered, her eyes alert and focused already. “Who is it?”

John shook his head and gently sat Dick back in his chair. Dick grabbed his hand to hold him back, but John just shook his head again and walked to the door. “Hello. Do you need something?”

“You must be John Grayson. My name is Bruce Wayne.” Dick could hear the smile in his voice, all too slick and polished.

John straightened, closing off whatever civility his body language had been suggesting. “You’re not welcome here, Mr. Wayne. Unless you’re here to apologize to my son, you should leave now.”

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” Bruce Wayne said. “I wanted to know if he’s feeling all right. I’ve seen him do so much better than tonight.”

Dick curled in on himself, drawing his knees up to his chin. Mary slid over the table to hug him, petting the back of his neck soothingly. He could feel her tension, even as hard as she was trying to hide it from him. She was furious, every muscle ready to spring up and cross the small space to the door, probably even ready to attack Bruce Wayne. Dick wouldn’t stop her if she tried, but he also didn’t like the idea of being alone, even relatively hidden away as he was. Dick knew Bruce Wayne couldn’t see him from where he was standing in front of the door, and if Dick shrunk down enough, he might not even spot him as he left.

If he left.

“That’s nobody’s business but ours. If you’ve just come here to insult us–”

“Not at all! I wanted to make a proposition. Is your wife in?”

John glanced back at the two of them and Dick shook his head sharply. He just wanted his dad to get rid of Bruce Wayne, to send him away. He didn’t want to hear anything else the man had to say. But Mary squeezed his shoulders and kissed his temple and headed to the door, leaving Dick to curl up even tighter.

As Mary walked to the door, she drew herself up to her full five-foot four height, the height of the trailer off the ground helping her glare threateningly down at Bruce Wayne. “If whatever you’re proposing doesn’t end with you leaving us the hell alone, we don’t want it.”

“Of course it does,” Bruce Wayne said. “I wouldn’t be so bold as to insinuate myself into your lives.” He paused as if waiting for a reaction. Mary moved a hair forward and John touched her arm. When Bruce Wayne spoke again, that slippery smile was back in his voice, as if that had been the reaction he’d hoped for. “Dick’s growing up to be quite a young man–”

“Don’t say his name,” Mary snapped, her shoulders rising in anger. “Don’t talk about him like you know him.”

“My apologies,” Bruce Wayne said, in a hurried way that almost sounded like one word. Dick wondered if that was the rich Gothamite way to say it. “But it is obvious. Very soon, he’ll be of age, and with his talent, there’s no doubt there will be many offers for him to join more... prolific troupes, once he’s no longer a minor. But, of course, he doesn’t have to stay in the circus at all. He could do whatever he wanted, money permitting, of course.”

John frowned. “What’s your point?”

“I’d like to be his benefactor. I can provide him with anything he could ever want or need. He’d meet the right people, be able to do anything he wants. In short, your son would be set for life. He’d never have to worry about anything. Isn’t that what every parent wants for their child?”

“Not what you’re offering,” Mary said. “There’s always a catch with people like you. So what is it?”

“Well, to make sure I was able to provide for him, he would, of course, have to leave this circus.”

Dick froze, a terrified chill running through him as if someone had dropped a block of ice into him. He felt like he could barely breathe, his chest hardly moving as he forced himself to try and calm down. He’d never been away from his parents, never lived outside the circus. He couldn’t even comprehend what it might be like to live somewhere else, to live in one place, trapped like a townie, not surrounded by people he knew and loved and who loved him back. He didn’t want to be taken away.

He pressed his palms against his chest, feeling his racing heart. He just wanted Bruce Wayne to be gone and leave them alone. By now, most of the circus would be gathering for dinner, maybe even wondering why Dick and his parents weren’t there. Someone might suggest they go looking to make sure everything was all right....

Dick sat up, dangling himself over the back of the chair to try and reach his phone. Bruce Wayne was a big man, but they had a bigger one and he didn’t take kindly to rich townies harassing his friends. A moment later, Dick sent off an SOS to their strongman, Big John.

When Dick looked back up, John was holding Mary back by the shoulders. “If you think you’re coming anywhere _near_ my son again,” she said, “I’ll tear that smile right off your face and beat it into your skull!”

“Mary!”

Bruce Wayne backed up a step and now Dick could see the back of his head through the kitchen window. “I’m not suggesting I take him now. That’s why I came to you, to offer for the future. I know it’s a hard decision. I want you to take your time.”

“You take any more time getting out of here–”

“Excuse me!” The deep bass of Big John’s voice cut through her words. “The circus is closed. If you’re lost, I can take you to the exit.”

Dick watched as Bruce Wayne took another step back, looking between the door and Big John close on his right. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, straightening his coat. “I remember the way.”

Big John took another step forward, offering a guiding hand. “We’ve been taking down the show. Most of the landmarks you probably used are gone. It’s no trouble.” His tone was not aggressive, but it was firm enough that Bruce Wayne couldn’t say no.

“Very well.” Bruce Wayne turned back to the Graysons. “Please do think about my offer. I’ll give you one year. I’m sure that will be plenty of time to make the right choice.” With that same fake smile, he turned away to leave.

As he passed the kitchen window, however, he paused and stared straight in at Dick. His eyes flashed once more with that hunger Dick had seen the day before, and Dick shrunk down in his seat, swallowing hard. Big John touched his back, and Bruce Wayne looked away, following his guide out to the exit.

Mary watched them go until she could no longer see them, but the moment the two men started walking, John was at Dick’s side, holding him close. Dick was too stunned to move. He was vaguely aware of both his parents at his side saying reassuring things to him, of Big John returning and escorting them to the group dinner, of sitting surrounded by friends and family who promised to do whatever it took to keep him safe; but he was more keenly aware of the furtive glances Pop Haly kept giving him, of the way he called his parents away from the group to speak to them in private, and of the paleness of his mother’s face and the gauntness around his father’s eyes when they returned to eat with him.

He felt stupid and sluggish in the still-present heat. Some part of him was incapable of comprehending what someone could want of a teenager with no skills outside of tumbling and flying on a trapeze, while another part of him knew exactly why, remembering the stories Rhiannon had told of her old friends from back home, stories she told only when everyone thought he and all the other kids were in bed.

All Dick knew is he didn’t want any part of it. No part of his benefactor, with his sick smiles and his too hungry eyes. No part of Gotham and it’s unquenchable heat and insatiable lust for everything horrid. No part of any of it.

“ _I’ll give you one year_ ,” Bruce Wayne had said.

Dick was sure it would be one of the worst years of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long update to make up for the fact that, although I have chapter four written out in my head, I'm a lazy little bear and haven't typed it up yet.
> 
> Also, there's a reason Bruce is always called "Bruce Wayne" when Dick thinks of him, and that will show up in later chapters.


	4. The Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh blazes, it's been a year, hasn't it? A year and a half, actually. Well, better late than never, right?

The next morning, an hour after dawn, the circus was out on the road, leaving nothing behind but the empty fairground and the bitter taste of Gotham in the air.  The next show still felt painful, and Dick still wasn’t up to his usual tricks for it.  The next week, it got easier.  Each show and each city further away from Gotham seemed to bring relief.  The next month, Dick was back to normal, each performance getting better and better than the last.

It turned out to be a better year than he had expected.  Over the winter, they managed to stay with his father’s family for two months, only returning with enough time to get back with the circus.  As always, the first show of the year was on his birthday in the humid warmth of Florida.  “Another year older for another perfect show,” Pop Haly said, just as he had every year since Dick was born.

They were on their last run of shows through Texas when Dick realized he’d grown another half inch.

“I’ll never fly agaaaaaaaaain,” Dick wailed, hanging upside-down off the bed, his head slowly inching closer and closer to the floor.  “I’m gonna be a giant and then I’ll never be able to do a flip ever.”

John and Mary exchanged amused looks, trying to decide who was going to take it this time.  Every time Dick grew, he would whine dramatically and claim that his professional career was over and they should abandon him to the townies.  Although it kept happening, somehow it became more laughable each year (possibly because, unlike when he was ten and realized that he would be a tall Grayson, it didn’t really take long to console him now).

John sat on the bed next to Dick, looking down at him.  “If you slip hard enough, you might be able to cut off a few inches.”

“I’m trying,” Dick said, his over-exaggerated pout slipping into a smile from gravity and his own amusement.  “Why do I have to be tall?”

Mary rolled her eyes.  “Oh, for God’s sake, Dick, you’ll be lucky if you’re taller than your dad.”

“No, I won’t!” he said, eyes wide.  “That’d be the worst!  I’m already as tall as you now.”

“It’s all her fault, you know,” John said, leaning down to stage whisper to Dick.  “It’s that tall townie blood of hers.  Her father was six-feet tall, you know.”

“Six feet?!  That’s terrible!”  Dick groaned dramatically and slunk to the floor while Mary just threw up her hands and turned around.

“I give up,” she said, opening one of their small cabinets.  “I completely give up.  I’m so sorry you can’t continue in your proud tradition of being a family of hobbits.”  She pulled out a fancy plate and looked back, eyes narrowing at her snickering husband and son.  “You know, I was the shortest member of my family.  My brother is six-foot three.”

Both boys recoiled in horror.  “No!  Say it isn’t so, Mary,” John said, clutching his chest.

“It is, and if you keep whining about it, you’re going to end up hitting a growth spurt, Richard Grayson, and then what will you do?”

Dick pulled his legs up and over, rolling to a supplicating position at her feet.  “No, mother, please!  Have mercy on me with your tall genes.  I’ll be good, honest!”

Mary laughed and pulled him up, ruffling his hair hard.  “You’ll be a brat just like you always are, but at least you’ll be a shortish brat.”

Dick laughed and cheered as she tossed him back on the bed.  “Hooray!  The Grayson height wins out again.”  He gave his dad a high-five and grinned at his mom.  “You and your tallness and your townie phrasing and your–” He broke off, looking around the trailer for something to latch on to.  His eyes fell on the fancy plate his mom had pulled out of the cabinet.  “Your weird obsession with commemorative plates!”

“Hey, now,” John said, getting up to pull Mary into a hug.  “I happen to like the commemorative plates.”

Dick flopped back and rolled his eyes.  “Ew.  You two are so weird.”

“You’ll appreciate them when you’re older,” Mary said, pulling John in for a long kiss.

“I’m seventeen.  I don’t think there’s much ‘older’ you can keep using that for.”

“Ah, you’ll see, Dick,” John said.  “One day, you’ll meet a pretty townie who will ask you for a commemorative plate and then you’ll buy them a full set, and then one day you’ll have a little Grayson of your own.”

Dick sat up sharply, his face a mix between shock and slowly-dawning horror.  “This is some euphemism, isn’t it?  What’re those things for?”

Mary grinned.  “I’m telling you, you’ll find out when you’re older.”

Dick’s mouth fell open in comical horror and he sprang off the bed, toward the door.  “Oh my God, if you two wanted to have sex, you could’ve just said so!  I’m gonna go practice tumbling until I have no memory of this entire conversation.  Geez!”

“Tell Pratima to spot you,” John called after him, getting only a wave in response.  He looked over at Mary and pursed his lips.  “Now that was just cruel.”

She shrugged.  “He started it.  Let’s see if he thinks twice about complaining next time.”

********

It was the end of August when they returned to Gotham and its omnipresent heat.  By the time they’d reached the fairgrounds, everyone was on edge, even the new clown they’d picked up in Omaha.  He had no idea what had happened the year before, but the second he was within Gotham city limits, he’d tensed with the rest of them.  They had four nights ahead of them, and none of them were going to be pleasant.

The first day of the show went smoothly.  Dick gave his tour, always keeping one eye out for that familiar face, those hungry eyes, but there was no sight of Bruce Wayne.  That evening when they performed, aside from the low knot of Gotham-worry in the pit of his stomach, Dick felt fine.  He’d perfected a new move this tour, a “triple with a kick”, he called it.  It was fun, something he had tried on the ground years before, but not in the air during a show, not until, unfortunately for him, he was tall enough.  It involved a twist during a flip then doing a quick split right before he was caught.  The applause for that was second only to his quadruple flip.  That night, riding high on the excitement of a great show, Dick almost forgot about Gotham and Bruce Wayne and his hungry eyes.

The next morning, bolstered by the previous night’s show, Dick crept out to do his morning stretches in the small wooded area on the outskirts of the fairgrounds.  The sun was up, but its warmth hadn’t reached the trees yet, a wet coolness sticking to everything.  Dick took a deep breath of the surprisingly fresh air and started his stretches.

He was halfway through his lunge set when a voice from the trees interrupted him.

“I never imagined you could be that flexible.”

Dick froze, his eyes opening like a shot.  From his position– nearly upside-down, ass in the air, no, _why_ – he could see the feet and legs of the man he had hoped he could avoid.  It was a stupid hope, he knew, Bruce Wayne had said he’d be here and now here he was.  Dick righted himself quickly and spun around, facing down the man with a bravery he didn’t really feel.

Bruce Wayne just smiled that strange hot-cold smile at him.  “That new move was impressive.  You’ve cleaned it up a lot since Opal City.”

Dick swallowed hard.  “You... were at the Opal City show?”

“I go to all your shows, every one I can.  If I can’t make it in person, I send someone to film it.  Only your part, though!”  His face took on an expression of concern on the tail end of his last sentence, as if he only belatedly remembered it was supposed to be there.  “You are my favorite part of the show.”

For a moment, Dick felt like he forgot how to breathe.  His chest moved in jerky motions, as if his muscles could just force his breath through spasms alone.  When he finally remembered how, his inhale was ragged and choppy, trying to pull him out of his panic.  “You shouldn’t be here,” he managed to say.  “You’re not allowed back.  Don’t come tonight, or tomorrow, or ever.  You’ve gotta stay away from us!”

“I will, Dick,” Bruce Wayne said, his voice low and soft.  “I wanted to tell you that.  That’s why I’m glad you’re out here.”  He took a step forward and Dick somehow couldn’t find the strength to step back.  “I’ll leave your circus alone.  I’ll leave your friends and family alone.  I won’t ever go to another performance of Haly’s Circus again.”

As relieved as Dick knew he should feel at those statements, something still seemed off.  Maybe it was the inherent wrongness of Gotham, or the strange deliberate way Bruce Wayne had chosen his words, but when he took another step closer, Dick managed to at least lean back.

“What’ll that cost?” he asked, watching Bruce Wayne with a wary and slightly horrified gaze.

The man frowned.  “You, of course.  That’s the kindest offer I’m giving.”

Dick wasn’t sure what made him do it, but his body came back to him in a rush.  He spat in Bruce Wayne’s face, a small burst of pride flashing in him when the man recoiled, and turned away.  “Go to Hell!” he yelled as he ran back to the trailers.  “And stay away from us!”

He didn’t turn back to see if Bruce Wayne was still watching him, but from the prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck and the feeling of a dagger at his back, he knew he was.

Dick spent the rest of the day before the show in their trailer curled up on the floor, out of view of the windows.  Mary stayed behind with him while John made rounds for the audience and to tell everyone in the circus what had happened.  If they hadn’t been on alert from just entering Gotham, they were on it now.

That night, Dick didn't do any of his flashy tricks, nor did he stay on as long as normal.  It was only through sheer determination that he convinced his parents to let him do what little he did.  He didn't want to let Bruce Wayne win completely and keep him from the show, but still, it was hard doing anything knowing he was out there in the audience, watching.

The moment the Graysons were offstage, the three of them returned to their trailer, shutting the curtains and doors to block out any wandering strangers.  If any circus family came by, they knew to call out; the Graysons weren't opening the door for anyone.

It was three hours after the show had ended that Pop Haly came to their trailer, looking more ragged and worn than Dick had ever seen him.  His normally jovial expression was pulled down into a tight ball of worry, and there was a weariness about his entire form that seemed to fill the air around him.

"What's happened?" John asked, shutting the door behind Pop.

Haly sank down into one of the freestanding chairs, facing the Grayson family curled up on the couch.

"I need to ask you something," he began, staring down at the table between them.  "If the circus closed, where would you go?"

Dick sat up sharply.  "We can't close!  Why do we have to close?"

Mary's eyes narrowed.  "What happened, Pop?"

Haly took a deep breath followed by a long sigh, as if he had to work up the energy to say what he needed to.

"That Bruce Wayne came to my office after the show," he said.  "He's going to call out the cops and close down the circus."

Dick was horrified.  Bruce Wayne couldn't have that kind of power, could he?  To kill the livelihood of so many people because Dick had rejected him?  It was unbelievable.

His parents were saying something, objecting to that kind of threat, his mom probably laying out a few threats of her own, but Dick couldn't make out what they were saying exactly.  Instead, he looked up at Pop, his mouth set determinedly.

"What does he want to not?"

Pop looked at him sadly and Dick knew the conditions Bruce Wayne had laid out: give him Dick, or the circus was done for.

Dick nodded, lowering his gaze.  He didn't speak for the rest of the time Pop was there.  The words of the adults seemed to pass through him without meaning.  He couldn't let the circus close; it was his home, his family.  He'd never let anyone hurt his family.

The rest of the night was a blur.  In his dreams, he was flying alone, the trapeze meeting him at every leap under the sprawling big top.  At the last moment, he let go, arms spread wide as he dropped to the net below.

But there was no net.  Only the open arms of Bruce Wayne were waiting to greet him, to pull him in and absorb him whole.  But the circus stood fast and that's what mattered.  The circus had to remain.  Where else could he come home to?

He woke before dawn, taking care to leave the trailer quietly and not wake his parents.  Even this early, the air was hot and oppressive, as if Gotham never really cooled down.  Dick made his way to the small woods above the camp, his stomach clenched in a hard knot.  Yet, despite the air and the anxiety clutching his body, his mind was amazingly clear.  He knew what he had to do.

It wasn't more than half an hour before Bruce Wayne appeared, looking as sinister and presentable as ever.

"You knew I'd be coming?" he asked, eyeing Dick with that same cold hunger as ever.

"You threatened my family," Dick said, his tone coming out angrier than he thought it would.  Better than showing fear.

"I made an offer," Bruce Wayne said, cool and even as if they weren't standing out in the woods under pale morning sunlight.

Dick sucked his teeth.  "You promised to never come back here, to never go near my family again, to never harm my circus ever.  After our shows are done here, I'll go with you, no argument.  But I don't want to see you before then."

Bruce Wayne raised an eyebrow.  "Is that _your_ offer?"

"Only if you _swear_ you won't bring any harm to my circus.  If I ever find out you did, I'll raise hell like you've never seen."  The sudden rush of anger and hatred Dick felt for Bruce Wayne made his body tremble as he stood.

Bruce Wayne tilted his head, looking Dick up and down appraisingly, and finally nodded.  "Monday morning, nine o'clock, I will have a car here to pick you up.  You won't see me before then."

"Good," Dick said, his voice more sturdy than he felt.  "I'll be here.  Now leave!  I don't want to see you again."

Bruce Wayne nodded and, without another word, turned and disappeared into the woods.

Dick stood there for a long while, frozen to the spot by the adrenaline coursing through him.  When he was sure he was alone, he let out a long sigh.

The realization of what he'd just done hit him like a cut rope and he fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.  He had two days left to see his parents.  Two days, and then the life he'd always sworn to be a part of would be gone.

Dick had made his choice to sell his soul for his circus.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone still following this after so much time and very big thanks to all the kudos and comments. Even if I don't reply, know that I'm sitting here flailing at every one. <3


	5. The First Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, bitches. Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.

The trip to Wayne Manor was the worst car ride of Dick's life. He sat pressed up against the door, trying to stay as far away from Bruce Wayne as possible. Whatever Wayne wanted of him, Dick wasn't going to make it easy to get.

"You'd be much more comfortable over here," Wayne said, indicating the seat right next to him.

Dick shook his head. "I'm fine here, Mr. Wayne."

"Please, call me Bruce. We should be informal. We're going to be friends."

Dick shot him a glare. *I hate you and everything you are.*

Dick turned back to the window, staring but not seeing anything outside. He missed the circus deeply. There was a knot in the pit of his stomach that grew and grew the farther away from his family he went. Icy and cold, it gripped him with the terror that he may never see them again. If Wayne could run them out of town, what was to say he couldn't stop them from coming back. If they couldn't come back for him....

Dick sniffed hard, hot tears welling in his eyes. He couldn't cry, not here, not now, now with Wayne sitting right there watching his every move. He turned his head and wiped his eyes on his shirt, trying to play it off like there was nothing wrong, like he'd just got some dirt in his eyes or something. He couldn't show any weakness to Wayne; he'd be eaten up in an instant.

The rest of the drive was silent until they turned down the long driveway leading to Wayne Manor. Dick gasped in spite of himself. It was huge, bigger than any house Dick had ever seen before. What could one man even do in there all by himself?

He shuddered. Maybe that's why Wayne had wanted him after all.

The Gotham summer heat was already breaking through the morning clouds as the driver let them out of the car. A thought flashed through his mind. He could open his door and take off in a sprint back down the drive. He could climb that gate. There was no way Wayne could keep up with him. Dick was smaller and faster.

Before he could act on this, the driver opened his door, standing just close enough to block Dick from doing much else than climbing out.

"Your luggage will be taken to your room," Wayne said, as if Dick had been worried about that. "I thought you'd like to see the house. A grand tour." He smiled as he spoke, too bright, too false. It made Dick hate him even more.

"Sure," Dick said, shrugging. "I don't care."

A dark expression flickered over Wayne's face for a moment, but when Dick looked back, his face was the same stupidly cheerful face it had been. "Come along."

Dick followed him, content to be behind him in case he needed to make a quick getaway, but Wayne dropped back, clapping an arm around Dick's shoulders. His grip was firm, like a warning to stay where he was. Dick tensed, but let himself be led along.

Dick had been right in his assessment of the house. Everything inside it was also huge. Ornate staircases filled the manor, leading to rooms with too high ceilings and too open spaces. Every room was filled with stuff of all shapes and sizes, yet none of them felt warm or inviting. Even the room Wayne identified as the den, the more intimate of entertaining rooms, seemed cold and sterile, as if everything had been placed just so and then never moved again. It all felt fake, like a magazine ad for rich white people.

Finally, Bruce -- no, Wayne, don't get familiar -- led Dick up to his new bedroom. Like every other room, it was enormous and pristine.

"I've been filling it with things you'll like," Wayne said. "Games, movies, books. If there's anything you want, just ask. You'll have it."

Dick made his way around the room. It was practically five times bigger than their trailer. What did one even do in a room this size?

"OK, thanks," he said, automatically. He was still in awe of the room.

The closet was full of clothes he'd never wear; absolutely none of it was his style, if he even had one. It was all so generic teen, everything in the room, from the games to the clothes to even the posters decorating his walls. He'd tear them down first thing. If there were going to be posters, they'd be for Haley's.

"Do you like it?" Wayne asked, a little too eagerly.

Dick shrugged. "It's all... fine." That dark expression flashed over Wayne's features again, so Dick continued: "I've never had this much stuff before. I don't know what to do with any of it."

Bruce laughed, too loud, too big. "Use it! That's what it's there for." He watched Dick with amused eyes, as if Dick was a puppy getting used to his new doghouse. "Come on. There's one more thing I want to show you."

He led Dick back down stairs to a room they had passed before. Dick had just assumed it was another damn entertaining room; there were something like twenty of them already.

"I saved the best for last," Bruce said. He opened the door and guided Dick inside.

The room was an Olympic sized gym, fully equipped with anything a gymnast could need. There were pommel horses of different sizes, bars, rings, even two trapezes in the middle of the room. The floor was lined with mats, leaving no hard space anywhere for Dick to get hurt. It was a masterpiece, if Dick allowed himself to say it.

"Mom and Dad would flip," he said to himself, wandering to the middle of the room.

"I knew you'd like it."

Bruce had him there. Dick did like it. He wanted to test out every single thing right now. Still, that little warning ball in his stomach bothered him.

"Did you put in all this for me?"

Bruce nodded. "You're amazing, Dick. Watching you waste your talent in a little circus like Haley's when you could be a star. Dick, you could be an Olympian with your talent. I want to help you reach your full potential. You'll never do that there."

Dick's hands clenched. How dare he say shit about Haley's. What does he know about it? What does he know about waking up before dawn to warm up, to help take down the tents and pack up to move to the next town? What does he know about performing for hundreds of people in some little Podunk town that wait every year for their one spot of happiness in the circus?

He hated this place, and every thing in it. He'd burn down Wayne Manor if he could and laugh like Nero as the flames brought down everything inside it. He'd even stay inside if it meant watching Bruce Wayne burn.

Wayne must have picked up on Dick's expression, because he suddenly switched tactics. "I'm sorry, Dick. I didn't mean to insult your circus. I only want to help you. You're good enough to go to the highest levels, and you deserve the kind of accolades you'd get." His eyes went sad, but it was too rehearsed a sadness. "I didn't meant to hurt you, Dick."

Dick had his mother's temper and no sudden apology would stop it. He turned away from Wayne and glared at one of the pommel horses. If Dick had been noticing, there was two of everything in the gym, as though each section was its own mirror, waiting for someone. As it was, Dick just fumed. If looks could kill, that leather would've been dead again.

Wayne laid his hands on Dick's shoulders, frighteningly close behind him, and Dick tensed, his anger breaking. "I am sorry, Dick," Wayne said. "What I said was thoughtless. Will you forgive me? Can we still be friends?"

Dick's brain was locking up. They weren't friends to begin with and no, Dick wasn't going to forgive him that easily, or even if he ever did, he wasn't going to forget it, but none of that mattered right now because Bruce Wayne was standing a hair's breadth away from him and Dick couldn't think, he could hardly breathe, could hardly

"Yeah," he finally croaked out.

He didn't know which question he was answering, or if he was still answering a question, he just wanted Bruce Wayne gone so he could think again, so he could be himself again. Dick had always been sensitive to touch and closeness. It was one of the ways his parents had trained him as a child to obey their commands, or calm him down when he was wild and upset. Now he didn't know what this meant, only that it was terrible.

Wayne squeezed his shoulders once and finally let go. Dick let out the breath he'd been holding, panting as he took back the space Wayne had taken up. He was aware of Wayne's eyes on him and tried to act calm. But that had been far too close for comfort.

"How about an early lunch, hmm?" Wayne asked, suddenly over by the door. Dick whirled around. He hadn't felt him leave his airspace at all. That wasn't a good sign.

"Yeah," he said again, knowing he'd never eat it. "Sounds good."

"Excellent. I'll go tell cook to start something. Is there anything you don't eat?"

Dick shook his head, not trusting his voice any longer.

Bruce flashed one of those fake smiles. "That's great." He disappeared out the door and down the hall, leaving Dick alone in the room.

Everything felt suddenly huge now, large and looming over him. The trapeze wasn't high enough. He'd never used pommel horses before. He didn't know what the bars were possibly for.

Dick shrunk down to his knees, curling his arms around him as he squatted there, very cold, very alone. He missed his parents, his family, terribly. Was every day going to be like this now? With Bruce Wayne lingering over his every movement?

Dick buried his head in his arms and cried.


End file.
